


Care and Conditioning

by Remeinhu



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Bootblacking, Consensual Kink, Equestrian, F/F, Horses, katanna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remeinhu/pseuds/Remeinhu
Summary: After watching Kitty's riding lesson, Anna is bothered by the state of her boots.Kitty suggests that if this is a problem for her, she's welcome to do something about that.
Relationships: Anne of Cleves/Katherine Howard
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty has a brilliant riding lesson, which Anna loves watching. But she's less then thrilled about what Kitty's muddy boots are going to do to her clean car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don't ACTUALLY get to the properly smutty bits until the next chapter. Patience.

“Kitty! Take this line in five!”

Leaning against the picnic table outside the arena, Anna watched with unalloyed pleasure as Florian, the big grey Rhinelander gelding Kitty was riding, rounded the corner and then opened up his stride in response to her invisible signal. The pair took the first obstacle—a smallish vertical—easily, and after they landed Kitty sat back slightly, asking Florian to shift his balance to his hindquarters and maintain his rhythm even as he stretched out towards the oxer ahead of them.

Five strides…four…three…two…one…and then Kitty crouched low over Florian’s withers, her hands following the stretch of his neck, as they sailed over the fence.

_This is one of her happy places, and it shows_ , Anna thought, as Kitty and Florian landed and rebalanced. Kitty asked Florian to change leads before they rounded the corner, which he did with a saucy flick of his tail. _And why not? It brings out her grace and sensitivity, and it clearly fits her love of animals. Fits her musicality, too—as I should know, riding has everything to do with rhythm and staying in time with your partner—even if that partner’s a horse rather than a flutist._

“Be setting him up for the rollback as you approach the next fence!” her instructor called, and, at another invisible signal from Kitty, Florian shortened his stride and shifted his weight further into his hindquarters. As they cleared the narrow gate, Kitty was already looking slightly to her right.

_She looks so strong and happy doing this, and so beautiful._ Anna’s heart swelled a bit watching Kitty, who was now guiding Florian in a perfect U-turn toward the final fence in the course, a hog’s back oxer in the very middle of the arena.

“Put him _dead_ center, Kitty!” rang out the instructor’s voice, but Kitty’s eyes were already locked over the center of the fence, and Florian sprang over it, overjumping by half a foot and rounding his back in a bascule that might have popped Kitty out of the tack if she hadn’t been so well in rhythm with him.

Instead she balanced easily, following his mouth with her hands as his back rose to meet her seat in the air.

_I could watch her all day._

_Doesn’t hurt that I have a perfect view of her perfect ass in her tight breeches from here, either._

Kitty and Florian slowed to a walk, and she gave him his head and leaned over to pat him enthusiastically, murmuring praise all the while. As the two began to cool down, the sun glinted off the tall black boots she wore.

Looking at the way Kitty’s calves filled out the supple leather, and the way her small spurs glittered against it, Anna felt just a bit weak at the knees.

_Those boots. Don’t even get me started._

___

Kitty was exhausted. In the best way.

She’d been working consistently with Florian for the better part of a year, and they got along wonderfully, but today’s ride had been especially exhilarating.

_Everything flowed. I was in balance with him, he was responsive to me._ She’d known it was going to be a good ride when she asked him to come onto the bit towards the end of their warmup and felt his hindquarters immediately collect under her, and his mouth soften and fully engage the connection with her hands. There was a feeling of lightness, and controlled power too, contained, but also alive and coursing evenly from his hindquarters to his mouth—what her instructor called _thoroughness_ —as though she held an electrical current with her legs, seat and hands, insulated by the tack, and, if she were skillful and respectful of it, could direct any way she wanted.

It was nearly magical.

When she’d first taken up riding in her new life, she’d been rather startled at the ways the horses differed from those she’d been used to. Some of them, of course, were more familiar. She’d instantly recognized the horse she’d started out on, a white-grey mare named Caryo (whose breed, she’d learned, was called _Lipizzaner),_ with her middling height, well-sprung barrel, nimble feet, and powerful, muscular neck and hindquarters, as a clear heir to the destriers of her day. There was Melody, with her fine head, slender legs, ambling gait, and striking color—she was a dappled chocolate brown with a flaxen mane and tail—who was called a _Rocky Mountain Horse_ and would have rivaled the finest palfreys in the kingdom. But others were new. There were quick, slender horses called _Thoroughbreds,_ faster and more agile than any courser. There were massive, gentle animals—called _Shires,_ with Roman noses and thick feathering around their hooves, and _Percherons,_ with finer heads, minimal feathering and invariably grey (or, she’d read later, sometimes black)—that were taller and heavier than any horse she’d ever known in her last life. And there were horses like Florian, of a type called “warmbloods” and more specifically called after various regions on the continent, that were taller and rangier than destriers and more muscular than coursers, with a destrier’s power and agility, and much of a courser’s speed.

When she’d first mounted Florian, it felt strange to be up so high—he was just shy of seventeen hands—but they quickly found they liked and understood each other, and now sitting him felt easy and natural. It was a lot like dancing, really—except horses didn’t tend to have deadly hidden agendas they used the cover of dance to enact.

Generally, if a horse was angry with you, you knew. Immediately and unequivocally. If you made a wrong move, depending on the horse and the situation, you simply wouldn’t get the reaction you were asking for (as she’d discovered when, as she was re-learning to canter and kept confusing her sixteenth century aids with her modern ones, Caryo just kept placidly trotting along until she’d figured it out) or you’d find yourself with your arse planted firmly in the dirt before you could say “whoa.”

She groomed Florian thoroughly, he leaning happily into the firm strokes of her brush, before giving him a carrot, turning him out in his paddock, and wiping down his tack and putting it away. As she walked towards the car, crop in hand and helmet swinging from her left wrist, Anna, who’d been reading at the picnic table by the arena while she groomed Florian, looked up and started toward her, smiling.

“You looked amazing out there, Kätzchen! How did it feel?”

“Amazing! That’s the smoothest I’ve been able to get that course yet! Florian and I were especially in sync today, I think—he came onto the bit like magic, and from then on I knew it was going to be a good ride.”

“That’s wonderful!” Anna pulled her into a hug, as Kitty protested, laughing, “Anna! I’m disgusting! I’m soaked in sweat and covered in dust!”

“Well then, let’s get you home and into the shower.” Anna smacked her ass lightly as they walked along. “I _may_ or may not have been staring at this during your lesson more than I was meant to.”

“Please, you think I don’t know how good breeches make my ass look? Stare away.”

____

Absorbed as they were, Kitty didn’t notice the mud puddle next to the car until she’d stepped right in it.

“Crap!” It was _thick_ mud, too, she noticed, grimacing, as she opened the car door. _That’s going to be a pain to clean, and it’s all over my spurs, too._ As she made to step inside, she heard Anna clear her throat pointedly.

“Kitty. Your boots. My clean car. Let’s discuss.”

Kitty cringed; she knew Anna was incredibly fastidious about her surroundings. “Ugh, sorry. And wouldn’t you know, I forgot to bring my old trainers to change into after I dismounted.”

“Can’t you at least use a stick or something to knock _some of it_ off?” Kitty looked around for a stick and did her best to scrape the worst of the crust away, but Anna still shuddered a bit as she climbed inside.

“I’m going to have to wash the mats _again,_ aren’t I?”

Kitty was beginning to feel just a little annoyed. “You know, when you asked to come along you _were_ fully aware that you were taking me to a _barn._ They’re generally not the most spotless of places. At least I didn’t step in horse shit.”

Anna grunted, but conceded that she was correct. “And to think that I was ogling your boots earlier.”

Kitty snorted. “Well, if my boots aren’t clean enough for you, you’re more than welcome to do something about that when we get home.” She arched an eyebrow at Anna, smirking a bit when she heard her slight, sharp intake of breath.

_I_ thought _that’d get her attention._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The names "Florian" and "Caryo" are also names of Companions from Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar books.
> 
> *I MAY have used part of this chapter as an excuse to beat my drum about medieval and early modern warhorses: to wit, destriers were NOT enormous, musclebound draft horse precursors. They were mid-weight, mid-height, powerful, and agile--far more like the famous Lipizzaners (they of "airs above the ground") than Shires.
> 
> For more on this point, see this, from equine historian Katrin Boniface:  
> https://pandemichorserescue.com/2017/10/08/how-great-were-great-horses/
> 
> A quotation from the above:  
> "[Draft horses] lack maneuverability, and they lack enough speed to increase to force of a lance hit. And of course, a horse of that size with the aggressive attitude expected of a warhorse would have been an incredibly dangerous animal to train. A smaller, lighter, but faster horse would have been more manageable, have been able to do more damage, while still being able to take his rider to safety."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna cleans, conditions, and polishes Kitty's boots. A series of turnabouts ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are entering NSFW territory in this chapter, although as yet everyone remains fully clothed.

When they returned home, Anna threw her arm out to prevent Kitty from proceeding past the doormat.

“Anna! The fuck?”

“You think I’m letting you track those boots all across the house? Unlikely. You stay here. _I’ll_ get the leather care kit.”

“Anna. I’m sweaty and tired and I smell like horse.”

“Nevertheless.”

“You could at _least_ bring me a damn chair.”

“Eventually—oh, _fine,_ ” Anna amended after Kitty glared daggers at her, and retrieved a chair from the kitchen table, which she placed near the door. Kitty started towards it, but Anna held out her hand. “ _Stay_ on that mat.”

“ _Anna.”_ Kitty had crossed her arms over her chest and was tapping her foot impatiently. Anna ignored her, retrieving an old towel from the utility closet and placing it in front of the chair, before she unceremoniously picked Kitty up—eliciting a startled yelp—and deposited her into the chair, feet _firmly_ on the towel.

“If you’re going to make me stay here, you could at least get me some water,” Kitty groused, though she had clearly relaxed a bit now that she was sitting down—after, of course, she recovered from the surprise of Anna having bodily put her there.

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

“If I _don’t_ have something to drink, I’m going to wind up with a dehydration headache and this endeavor is _not_ going to end the way you’re hoping it will.”

Anna had to admit she found that hard to argue with.

Once she’d furnished Kitty with a large glass of water, she was _finally_ free to go up to her room, where she retrieved a wooden box raised up on two strips of wood that had a pedestal on its lid where one could place a foot. She also collected a basin, a spray bottle, and a small stack of cleaning towels, as well as a few pairs of latex gloves from the bathroom—she absolutely hated being unable to get polish out from under her fingernails.

When she returned to the entryway (noting, admiringly, that Kitty had loosed her hair from its braid and shaken it out vigorously), she spread out one of the cleaning towels and, opening the box, lay tins of saddle soap, leather conditioner, black cream polish, rubbing cloths, a tack sponge, a stiff cleaning brush, and a buffing brush out on it. She closed the box and set it in front of Kitty, then filled the basin and the spray bottle with warm water and set those next to the rest of her supplies. Finally, she retrieved a footstool from the kitchen, which she set in front of Kitty and sat herself down on.

She spread another cleaning towel across her lap. “Shall we begin?”

“Um, yes. I’d _really_ like to be able to shower sometime this century.” Staring down from her chair, with her rumpled hair falling over her shoulders and her lips pursed tartly, Anna thought, she looked somehow adorable and imperious at once.

She tutted and briskly picked up Kitty’s right foot, settling it into her lap. “As I recall, _you_ were the one who insisted on sitting and having a glass of water before we started.” She unbuckled and removed Kitty’s spur, then wet the brush in the basin and began scrubbing away the mud, paying particular attention to the seams, the back zipper, and the folds where the boot crumpled around Kitty’s ankles, and ensuring all the mud was gone from the treads, before toweling the boot dry and repeating the operation with the other foot.

“There, the mud’s gone. Now we can actually take care of your poor, abused leather. How long has it been since you gave these a proper soaping and conditioning?”

“You know how busy we’ve all been! And I’m usually knackered by the time I come back from the barn, if you and the horses will forgive the expression.”

“It’s a good thing you have me to help you out,” Anna replied smugly, wetting the tack sponge and working up a rich lather with the saddle soap. She began working the lather into Kitty’s boot, enjoying the rich smell of the leather and taking the opportunity to knead the muscular calves underneath.

“Mmm, that _does_ feel good! I must have been tensing up more than I realized.”

“Feels good to me, too. You’ve got great legs, you know, and your boots show them off so very well.” She inched the flat of her hand up above the top of Kitty’s boot, fluttering her fingertips slightly and eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

“Well, thank you—”

“Pity you never keep them clean.”

“You know, I still have my riding crop!”

“Do you _want_ me to stop doing this?” Anna’s hand crept further up the inside of Kitty’s thigh.

Kitty gasped in spite of herself. “When you put it like _that…_ no.”

“Thought not.” Anna continued rubbing the lather in, occasionally sliding her hand upwards to keep Kitty on edge. When she’d finished soaping both boots, she lightly wiped them down, replaced the towel in her lap with a clean one, and then rubbed the leather conditioner in thoroughly with her hands.

Kitty’s boots were meticulously clean now, and the leather was soft and supple. Anna took a moment to appreciate her handiwork, and savor the smell one more time. She loved the look of properly polished leather, but she found the smell of the actual polish somewhat noxious. _At least I can prevent it getting all over my hands,_ she thought, crisply snapping on a pair of latex gloves, and she picked up a clean rag and the jar of polish. She used the rag to dip out a generous dollop of the creamy substance, and rubbed it into the boot in her lap, leaning into the strokes as she did so.

Kitty, who seemed rather more keyed up now than she had been, squirmed. Anna smacked the side of her boot. “Stop that.”

“You _stopped_ touching me.” There was a definite whine to her voice.

Anna held up her gloved hand, which was now liberally splotched with black polish. “You _want_ I should stain your breeches with this?”

Kitty _humphed._ “You know, when I told you that if you didn’t like my muddy boots you could do something about it, I’d rather assumed _I_ was topping _you._ ”

Anna finished the right boot, set it down, and swung Kitty’s left calf into her lap. “And yet, behold.” She began rubbing in the polish. “‘Turnabout,’ as I believe the expression goes, ‘is fair play.’”

“True,” Kitty grumped, before something seemed to occur to her, and she quirked a mischievous smile. “However, you _have_ put yourself in a position where my foot is right near your crotch…” She flexed her foot experimentally, pressing her toes up and her heel towards Anna, who found she was grinding slightly against it in spite of herself. “You’ll break my concentration,” she growled.

Kitty looked maddeningly smug. “You’ll find that riding has made me _quite_ used to keeping my heels down,” she purred, and pressed her heel in a bit harder.

Anna gritted her teeth, trying to stay focused on the leather, but it was becoming more difficult. “ _Mist._ ”

“What was it you just said to me? ‘Turnabout is fair play?’”

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), at that point Anna finished rubbing the polish into the second boot, and she set Kitty’s foot back down on the floor. She was about to pick up the buffing brush, but Kitty leaned over and stopped her.

“Kätzchen—” She’d meant to sound exasperated, but the word came out somehow sounding far needier than she’d intended.

Kitty placed a finger over her lips, as she undid a few buttons of Anna’s shirt with her other hand. “Just needed a better view when you bent over.” She brushed her fingers over the tops of Anna’s breasts, then sat back. “By all means, _please_ continue.”

“You look awfully satisfied with yourself,” Anna muttered, as she began to buff the boots to a soft shine.

“You’d be, too.” Kitty was pressing her heel into Anna’s crotch again, and she was staring at her chest and collarbones with undisguised lust.

Anna didn’t answer. She leaned harder into her strokes, imagining that she could telegraph her arousal into each pass of the brush, and gripping Kitty’s calf tightly in her free hand. Kitty just preened.

_Finally_ she finished both boots, stripped off her gloves, and paused to try to admire her handiwork. They gleamed richly, and Kitty filled them out beautifully, but by now Anna was too distracted to fully appreciate the effect.

This was clearly obvious to Kitty, who’d cocked her hand on her hips and was smirking seductively. “Like what you see?”

“ _Clearly._ ” Anna reached out just as Kitty slipped past her, brushing her waist with her fingertips.

“You little tease.” She stared at Kitty’s ass as she walked toward the stairs.

Kitty looked back over her shoulder, still smirking. “I’m going to take a shower. Care to join?”


End file.
